


An Adventurer's Guide To Skyrim

by Eribabe



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F, F/M, Hopefully only kind of sad at times, M/M, Mild Blood, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Polyamory, Skyrimstuck, Very Minor Character Death, Violence, Yes Kanaya is a vampire and Jade is a werewolf, alternate universe - skyrim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 10:56:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 20,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5288048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eribabe/pseuds/Eribabe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake is just a Breton trying to get back to Jade, but gets really, really distracted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which Jake Sits In A Cart And Thinks

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published story, so I apologize in advance for any HTML mistakes. That stuff's hard, man. (I changed the name; someone suggested this new one)

* * *

     You had _just_ gotten over the blasted border not too long ago! You'd never think that crossing back to Cyrodiil after seeing your friend Jane would cause anything like this.... this hullabaloo! Even now, there was a group of rather weary looking nice gentlemen attempting to cross it along with you. Well, you're.... pretty sure that's what they were doing. You had been partially behind them, but payed them no mind after a while. You're simply minded your own bloody business when you're suddenly pushed to the ground. Now, there's a group of armoured young men and women attacking you -their armour is kin to that of Cyrodiil's Imperial Guard's armour, or you're pretty sure, as it looks strikingly similar to John's friend's armour- and that other group, but they seem far more interested in them, you note between punches. These people's armour is far thinner than what they have in the Imperial City, shown by your enchanted gauntlets easily making dents in the breastplates. You duck beneath one of their strong, yet uncoordinated, swings and use this opening to grab their leg, tossing them to the ground with a satisfying mix of a _***CLANG***_ and a _***THUNK***_. These buffoons would surely lose to your in a true round of fisticuffs!

     This victory was shortly lived, however, as the soldiers seem to be pouring in from a limitless source. Far too many for your liking at least, and you fret over your ability to take this small group out let alone assist that other group.

     Or, you believe they need help. They don't seem to be too prepared?

     You swear to the Nine you'd help them, but you're far too absorbed in your own battle amid the clashing, punching, yelling, and bodies flying on from your rig-

     Wait, _flying bodies?_

     You break your assaulter's nose, take his sword, and hit him in the side of his helmet with the hilt, and discard his sword as he falls to the ground. Since that bought you a few seconds to spare, you waste them in order to look over at whatever what hurling the bodies.

     A man clad in black fur (why wasn't he wearing actual armour?) is... shouting at his enemies? Sure enough, he would open his mouth to speak, well, yell in a language you've never heard in all of your adventures thus far, and a blue aura, that seemed more like a force, would be emitted, sending anyone in front of him for thirty yards _vaulting_ backwards. It was astonishing! _What in blazes is it?_

     Alas, it seemed the man who's nose you had damaged wasn't as unconscious as you'd hoped, as he stood while your back was turned, and offered you the same as you had rewarded him with: the metallic butt of a sword meeting your temple, sending your stout Breton frame slinking to the ground, and into a healthy headache that dissolved into slumber.

* * *

 

     Your eyes are still clamped shut, but you're mostly awake now. The constant bumps you were traveling over assured at least that much, along with whatever you were seated on, as it was highly uncomfortable.

     Slowly, you pried your eyes apart from one another, and your vision was filled with the wood beneath your feet, along with another pair of feet that were not your own. You trailed your gaze up to find a rugged Nord glaring around your surroundings.

     He appeared weary and angry beneath his deep blond hair, covered in dirt, and hands bound together tightly with rope.

     Blond Nord finally met your gaze, saying, "Hey, you. You're finally awake."

     You hum in response, not bothering to speak up instead. It seems to not matter, as Blond Nord continues anyways. "You we're trying to cross the border too, right?" This catches your attention. So, you suppose Blond Nord was part of that group to your right from earlier? How long even was that? "Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us and that thief over there."

     You shift your eyes from him over to an even more weary Nord wearing rags in worse condition than your situation. His hands we're bound too; a quick look down made you realize that you all were. Duh, you were all captured, you should have suspected at least that much. But you were just waking up, so pardon if you were still regaining your senses!

     "Damn you Stormcloaks," Horse Thief hisses, "Skyrim was fine until you came along. Empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and be halfway to Hammerfell."

     Ah _drat_ , you're still in Skyrim? You were hoping they would have at least taken you to Cyrodiil for a tria-

     Horse Thief is addressing you now, apparently. "-ou and me - we shouldn't be here. It's the Stormcloaks the Empire wants."

     "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, thief," the Blond Nord scoffs out.

     The Imperial soldier driving your cart barks, "Shut up back there!"

     "What's wrong with him, huh?" Horse Thief asks, nodding to right beside you.

     When you look over, Man In Black Fur is beside you, hands bound and he's also gagged, for whatever reason. Wait, it was probably because of the shouting-power he was using earlier.

     "Watch your tongue!" Blond Nord seethes, "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true High King."

     What in _blazes_ even was _with these men?!_ What exactly was a "Stormcloak?" Obviously, though, you presume it was men who followed this Ulfric fellow, but _why?_ What was happening in Skyrim that had caused this.... fuss?

     "Ulfric, the Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion."

     Okay, _rebellion_ , not just a fuss. Why a rebellion? You suppose you'd be less frustrated if you actually said these questions aloud, but you didn't feel like it, and you feel as if these two are having some kind of... frustrated moment, and any interruptions would be frowned upon by the Nine.

     Horse Thief's voice suddenly became hushed and scared, "But if they've captured you... Oh Gods, where are they taking us?"

     On that note, you second to tune them out, so you can properly assess and flip about your current dilemma. You were just attempting to cross the border, dammit! Why were you being taken somewhere with a thief and the _leader of a rebellion_?!? You were even sort-of-friends with a member of the Imperial Guard! An annoyed sigh escapes from your nose, unnoticed by the two bickering, but Ulfric raises an eyebrow in question. You look away melodramatically in turn, and Ulfric turns back to his grumpy pose. Blond Nord and Horse Thief's arguing becomes background noise as you finally take in your surroundings.

     There's snow in a fine layer atop of most surfaces, but no snowflakes appear to be floating down and setting on either man's hair like in the end of one of the romance books you had, er, skimmed through briefly. Romance wasn't your preference, however. You loved a good action novel. Heroes and Heroines slay wicked beasts, dragons, and foul people of all sorts, mer and human. They made your heart rise with adrenaline when theirs did, sink with sadness when a beloved died for them, and feel completely and utterly whole when the tale ended, sometimes longing for more. This is why you became an adventurer yourself! You loved the adrenaline; the romance of it all. Sitting with your stepsister Jade and her Grandfather in Valenwood is appealing for only so long. You lived to continue where your books ended, although you get slightly upset that you'll never be able to go against a dragon. Not only because of the fact that you're a fairly small human, given your race, but the last dragon was technically Martin Septim, when he defeated Merunes Dagon. That was 200 years ago. Well, those and then you're terribly afraid of what encountering a dragon would mean.

     Your thoughts of adventure are quickly stopped with the cart. You've arrived in a rather.... ramshackle town. Everything is made of cobblestone or wood topped with hay, nothing too permanent or sturdy. A horde of Orcs could probably pummel the structures easily. Was everything this poor in Skyrim? The path you and the other captured traveled along wasn't too beaten down, and there weren't many signs of abundant life around here. Maybe this land would be rather exciting to explore, Now that you think of it. Unseen caves, abandoned mines and houses, bandits camped everywhere. Golly, this was going to be a thrill!

     Or it would have been, if you weren't bound and kind of arrested. Horse Thief notices this too, asking, "Why are we stopping?"

     People on a cart next to the one you were on stand and begin to hop off, another Imperial Officer lady yelling at order, and the lower Officers carrying them out. Blind Nord grimly states, "Why do you think? End of the line," and you all stand. Perspiration begin to gather on you in anticipation of your fate.


	2. There Be Dragons

      The four of you file off the cart, Jarl Ulfric leading with Blond Nord taking the rear. A small crowd, no more than ten civilians, were gathering on the other side of the cart to your right. You all stood before a woman Officer (presumably the one who was yelling orders a bit ago) and a brunet Nord officer, although he didn't look as if he belonged there at all. A bit apologetic looking, if anything. He tended to chance glances at Blond Nord, and you briefly wonder if they had known one another. You dwell not long on that train of thought, mostly due to Brunet Nord, or Blond Nord's possible-past-friend/acquaintance, beginning to call names off their list. You swear you heard Blond Nord mutter something like, "Empire loves their damn lists."

      "Ulfric Stormcloak. Jarl of Windhelm."

      The Jarl walked off to your left with no other noises except the sound of feet shuffling along the dirt.

      "Ralof of Riverwood."

      Blond Nord - _Ralof_ , followed to where Ulfric had gone.

      "Lokir of Rorikstead."

      Lokir approached them, exclaiming something about him not being with the Stormcloaks, and then began sprinting past them, attempting to run off. It was quite the show. The lady officer seemed to be willing to put up with none of that, and barked an order at her archerers, who shot the thief down in front of a house near the gate. Lady officer turned back around, "Anyone else feel like running?" You shook your head no, and Brunet Nord glanced down at his list, tilting his head.

      "Wait. You there. Step forward," and you, of course, oblige, as it seemed better than archerers taking you down. His face scans yours before he asks, "Who are you?"

      Your heart definitely doesn't skip a beat, then attempt to make up for it by speeding up when you answer. "Uhm... Jake English." Whew, at least you didn't stutter. That would have been even more embarrassing.

      Again, he looks down at the list, then your face, the list once again, then looks to the woman. "Captain. What do we do? He's not on the list."

      "Forget the list," Ralof would have loved to hear that, "he goes to the block." You _**CERTAINLY**_ do _**NOT**_ love hearing those words.

      Brunet Nord turns back to you, "I'm sorry. I'll be sure that your remains are sent back to High Rock."

      As if you had ever actually _lived_ in High Rock.

      You are led wordlessly to the block. The block? **REMAINS**?! What did you do to deserve to be beheaded! You were only attempting to go back to Cyrodiil. Confound it, you weren't even on their god damn list! You would be perfectly fine with embarrassing yourself now, in favour of keeping your head rightfully atop your neck.

      General Tullian? Tillus? You hadn't been paying a lick of attention to Ralof earlier when he had mentioned the name to Lokir, and you had caught only a bit of it. Whoever he was, the General was attempting to rile and degrade the Jarl with his words, but Ulfric was giving off a strong aura of _'whatever'_ , and only annoyed with the fact his mouth was gagged, so he could not use his yelling powers to send the General into Hell. After his attempt of berating Ulfric, he ordered for the Priestess to start saying the Last Rites.

      Not too soon after she said something about the "Eight Divines", (wait, _eight_? Weren't there nine?) an aggravated-looking Stormcloak interrupted her, telling her to stop so they could get on with it. She begrudgingly did so, as he knelt down at the chopping block. The headman stood above him, cloaked in heavy black garments that covered pretty much every inch of the person. They were also holding a rather.... gargantuan.... axe at their side.... and you're suddenly **far** more terrified than you were just a moment ago.

      They raise it above their head, and bring it down, cleanly chopping the man's head off and into a wooden bin, with the man's body falling limply to the side, blood pouring fastly -yet also thinly- from both halves and into the dirt. This caused an uproar of both negative and positive comments from the small crowd gathered around.

      "Next, the Breton!"

      Oh dear, oh no. No, no, no, _no_. A chorus of "No"s run in the back of your mind, as the thought of your prominent death pressed at the front, even harder harder when you were pushed to the ground by the woman's foot -rather harshly, may you add- and next to the still-warm Stormcloak body. Thank the Gods you were forced to face the headsman rather than the man's head.

      The axe seems far larger than it was just a moment ago, and you begin to imagine your head being lobbed off, and your body falling onto the other one uncoordinatedly. You're now uncertain if you prefer the view of the helmsman or the deceased Nord.

      A loud roar cuts through your thoughts, fears, and the sky; some people seemed to be visibly moved by it. Everyone looked in the general sky area, as that was far too mighty to be a bear, troll, or anything that small, and also too close for comfort. Someone called out, "Did you hear that noise again?" Again? Apparently you missed something else. You really need to start paying attention, or you're likely to kill someone.

      The female officer dismissed the sound and told them to carry on.

      The headsman raised his onyx axe again, when there was another roar, leaps and bounds closer and louder than the one just a moment ago. This one stopped everyone, and the foot-on-your-back female officer asked if anyone saw anything, and only a second after, something landed atop the tower behind the headsman.

      A...

      It was a dragon.  
An actual, living _dragon_.

      The beast towered above everyone and everything, razor-sharp scales covering its body, and even sharper claws gripping the tower. The dragon was a horrific, and amazing, sight. Entirely black, except maybe its eyes? You weren't able to tell, honestly, as you were far too entranced in the dragon as a whole. Gigantic, leathery wings as black as an abyss spread out menacingly, the scales catching the sun in truly marvelous ways. If it weren't, well, a horrific creature, you would love to examine it, or just stare at it all day, memorizing it. But it still happens to be a dragon, which you cannot marvel at for too long if it is awake, or if you're on the ground beneath a headsman, and also if you're terrified even MORE SO than you were with the headsman.

      The dragon opens its mouth, revealing all-too-long fangs. Then, it says something in dragon tongue, you believe, which shakes the very earth, sending everyone to the ground. The sky darkens to a bruise yellow, as if the dragon's words had been a punch that wounded the brilliant blue. And.... small _meteors_ began to rain from the sky? Well drat, this was quite the predicament. Why couldn't you just have one normal day?

      This is possibly A LOT MORE than just a PREDICAMENT. This is terrifying and you're somewhat proud with yourself that you haven't cried yet!

      However, this gave you an opportunity to escape! You stood shakily to your feet, your knees feeling more weak than they should after kneeling, the impact and load roars also casing you to become briefly deaf. Ralof, crouching some fifteen feet away, mouthed something. He saw that you didn't quite understand -you couldn't read lips to save your life- so he beckoned you over to him. Slowly, you walked yourself to him, and he stood up too, and began to shout something else. He remembered, you believe, that you can't hear, so he tugs at your arm once before running to a watch tower.

      During that six second trip, your hearing slowly fades back in, and you can now hear the meteorites crashing into the ground, the screams of men, women, and children, and the raspy roar of the dragon burning someone/thing into the ground.

      After you had both made it inside, the door was shut behind you. Two injured Nords layed on some type of hay-mat, with another Nord tending to them. You turn around to see Ulfric leaning against the wall by the door, facing Ralof.

      "Jarl Ulfric! What is that thing? Could the legends be true?" Ralof questioned, chancing a glance at the closed door as if the dragon were going to burst in. 

      Ulfric scoffed, "Legends don't burn down villages."

      With that, you started up the staircase spiraling upwards along the tower's walls. At the first landing, a Stormcloak stood. Before you could even think to question him about anything, the wall imploded, crushing the man beneath the rubble. Of gosh darn course. The maker of this new window is the same black dragon, and you'd be lying if you said you didn't feel scared every time you see its scales. Or teeth. Or really anything about it.

      You dared not to step forward as the dragon poked his head into the new hole in the wall, glaring at you for only a brief second before unleashing a stream of fire, which you skillfully ducked under, as if it were just a normal punch. Putting it in this mindset helps you to stay a bit more calm than you actually should be. The dragon pushed itself off the building, taking to the sky.

      You wearily step in front of the gaping hole, looking to see if there were any escape, since the debris destroyed any hope of taking the stairs.

      Thankfully, you suppose, there was a house with a burning gape in the roof that you may be able to jump through if you attempted.

      And you do.

      Attempt being the key word.

      You jump from the tower landing, and aim for the second floor. Of course nothing is allowed to go smoothly today, so your jump is too short, and you land on the hay covered roof, sliding off to the front part of the house. This probably due to the fact you had a small freak-out during the middle of the jump. You attempt to find purchase on hay with your feet, but that's a wasted attempt, since the hay is sliding down with you. Jeez, and it's rubbing your skin away and stabbing you as if that's the only was for it to live.

      Landing with a horrid _***thump***_ on the ground, you thank heavens that you stand up with only bruises, scrapes, and rubbed skin, but nothing seems to be broken. _Point one for English_.

      You try to fond a way to exit, but crumbled parts of burning houses are blocking most paths, except for in the house you said off from. So you enter there, since you've no other choice, and exit through the other side of the house.

      The Nord with the list from a bit ago motions you to him, but you have given up on the Nords for now. Only pain seems to be coming for you now. So much pain.

      You dash ahead, leaving Brunet Nord, a Nord child, and an Imperial Man in your wake. Haha, dragon! I'd like to see you stop me!

      It does.

      You have really got to start expecting that.

      You slide to the left, running up a slab of fallen tower, and vaulting off past the dragon, laughing at your win.

      _Point two, English!_

      You sit between the house behind where the dragon was a moment ago and the wall surrounding this makeshift Oblivion, trying to catch your breath. This gives you time to think, and time for the adrenaline to wear off, and you fully realize how terrified you are. You are attempting to _outrun a dragon to the outside world, then wandering a land unknown to you, and possibly considered a convict of sorts_. It's been a confusing and absurd day.

      Brunet Nord finds you, and runs to your side, crouching beside you. "I know a way out of here. Will you follow, or are you going to try the dragon again?" He shout-offers, looking a bit worn from all of this mess.

      You force out a laugh -laughing is good for stress, you know- and shout back, "I'm still bit weary of you, seeing as your comrades condemned me to the block, chap! I think I'll try the dragon, if you don't mind. It's a pretty-" terrifying "-creature, anyways!"

      He shakes his head, and stands, "I'll be outside the building when you change your mind." And on that note, he dashes further away.

      Your breathing has finally returned to "acceptable", so you stand, and go to brush the dirt from your rags  
only to be reminded that your hands are still bound. You should have asked him to fix that. Phooey.

      After turning around the corner Brunet Nord had just a half minute ago, you see an Imperial Officer -the lower ones that wear leather armour- facing the burning beams of the front of the house you had been crouched behind. Due to him staring absentmindedly at the flaming wood, which you could more than understand the feeling of being lost in thought, he failed to notice the black dragon until what probably would have been too late, if you weren't as heroic as you are. Basically, you tackled him into the smoldering remains of a house to the right, out of the line of fire that dragon released from his mouth again. He attempted to sputter out a thanks, probably, but you were far too busy for that silliness, so you held your arms out, "Please cut these binds." The officer looked almost offended, then you reminded him that you just saved his life, so he begrudgingly released you from your bounding.

      You nodded a thanks before shrugging the rope from your wrists and jogging out of the once-was house.

      _Thank the Nine_ , you think to yourself, _there's finally a GATE so I can LEAVE this hellhole!_ A few seconds of a jog-run later, you arrive at the door, and push it open.

     In your dreams, at least. The blasted thing is locked. Probably to keep the people convicted from escaping during the "trial." In a vain attempt, you try the gate at the adjoining wall, but the wooden gate give no release. You kind of want to cry. This place is dreadful, on fire, and under attack. Why? Where did the dragon come from? Why was it attacking here? No one knows, of course, so you don't say it out loud. Well, the dragon knows, but that would be a really stupid idea, even for you.

     You scour the area, and see a large building made of the same gray cobblestone as the watchtowers, so you head for that. Less likely to be crushed by a dragon is always the best place to be. You face the two entrances of the building and, believe it or not, Brunet Nord is standing at the entrance on the left of the building. "Come on," he ushers, "in here."

      You're obviously still afraid of him, and stubborn, so you tell him no, thank you, and head into the unmanned door on the right instead.

      After nearly knocking the door in, you quickly close it, shielding you from the dragon and anyone else. You spot a table across the room -next to a dead Stormcloak, Gods rest his soul- and use it as a cruddy blockade for the door. You audibly sigh in relief, and since you're far too curious for your own good, you take the small walk over to the dead Stormcloak. He's fallen next to a chair that was under your table, with a prominent slash in his side, blood dried around it, but no more blood seems to be coming from the wound. A frown creeps itself onto your face, realizing all the people that died because of that dragon. This was really, really stupid! All of this! The dragon, the rebellion in Skyrim, being here: stupid.

      Yes, now you're upset. You search the man's body for any supplies -aha, gold. Not a lot of gold, but it's more than you have- and then his war axe. You're not very.... proficient with an axe, but you're better with one handed weapons than two. And fighting with your fists at the moment wouldn't be too smart.

      Standing, you walk to the iron bar gate to your right, only to find that it's locked. Bully. You scan the room for any other day exits, and find a wooden gate, but it's the ones that only move vertically, meaning that there's a leaver somewhere.....

      Somewhere being not in this room.

      This is starting to feel like a game where you aren't allowed to do **ANYTHING** without someone else! Who would even play this kind of game on someone? No one, that's who. Deprives people of adventure is what it does, and it's also a bit childish. Hmph.

      Your face is now in a scowl, (because this is all stupid) then you hear what is most likely two pairs of feet walking down the corridor on the opposite side of the wooden gate. You situate yourself by the Nord, hoping you appear to be dead. Sneak attacks are not your forte by _any_ means, but hopefully one of the Nine will allow you to pull this off. Or maybe even one of the Daedric Princes. You couldn't care less at this point, _you just want to live_.

      The two are conversing about all of these unusual events while making their way towards you. You hold your breath in your lungs, although you could probably just breath quietly, but you're one for the occasional theatrics. They pull a lever that you still can't see on their wall, and stride underneath once it has retracted into the ceiling. There's a male and female, both Imperial Officers, and the woman is wearing the metal armour again, while the male is wearing the leather one. Their eyes float over different parts of the room, probably to find any living rebels or prisoners. The male spots you and the Strormcloak, and your breath would hitch if you were still breathing. You pray that he doesn't check for a pulse; please don't be that smart, sir.

      He does something equivalent to sauntering over to you both, examining the Nord first; the woman is trying to unlock the gate, with more difficulty than she honestly should. It's kind of humourous. Anyways, he turns the Nord over, and disregards him, turning to you, and prods your side for anything.

      You snap your eyes open at him, placing one hand on his mouth as quickly as possible, and grabbing the other side of his head. You apologize with your eyes as best as you can, then turn his head sharply, effectively breaking his neck. His eyes roll to the back of his head, and he slumps down. Oh my Gods, you just killed a man.

 _ **Ohmygoshhereallyisdeadwhydidyoudothis**_. Just push it out of your mind, Jake, you'll have time to cry about it in a minute. Quietly, you grab the sword from his side, as it's easier to wield than the war axe, and stand, now facing the woman.

      She turns, ready to say something to her (now dead) partner, probably about the lock not opening, then her face crunches in anger at the sight of him unmoving on the ground, and she draws her sword, lunging at you. Her attacks are fueled only by rage, so it's easy to avoid her. You're pretty sure that if she hits you, you're not going to have a chance to tell John you were almost beheaded. You can't wait to go back to Cyrodiil and regale him with what's happened so far. Or mail Jane about it. If you dared to say it on front of her, she'd do the honours of removing your head with a label. Good idea, don't not focus on the fight. Leave it to muscle memory!

      You barely avoid her next swing, and actually lose a small amount of hair! The nerve of her. You sturdy the man's sword in your hand, clashing metal against metal, which surprises her. This lets you dominate the fight, swinging the sword skilfully against hers, allowing her no time to get in any offensive attacks, only half-assed blocks. Why don't these people care about fights! Do they have no will left?

      Okay, you were wrong; _she does_ , evidenced by the large gash on your right forearm. It really, really stings! And hurts like no other! Happy outlooks, Jake, happy outlooks.

      The metallic smell of your blood fills your nose, and your sword arm is blinding you with pain, so you drop the sword, gripping your right arm with your left. Can you even fight with your legs?

      Sort of would be the answer. It's a bit easier to move without the weight of a sword in your hand, so that's a plus. Fighting with your legs is a bit unusual though. Of course, you were rather built from your shoulders to the callouses on the pads of your toes, so by no means were your legs not powerful, but you always fought with either a sword, bow, or your fists: not legs.

      You know where to hit, though, and how to end this quickish. Ducking down slightly, you swing your foot to the back of her knee, spinning slightly and taking her down to the molted carpet with an "oof". Bleh, that's a nasty carpet. She quickly rockets herself up, only barely fazed by being knocked to the ground. Maybe you underestimated that armour.

      Her swing is wide, and would have sliced through your midsection at an angle if you hadn't fumbled backwards clumsily. She now takes over the fight, swinging almost faster than you can block.

      You're soon backed into the wall where the Nord and man are shoved against. You do your best to stay away from them, so they aren't hit. That would be rude and disrespectful. An idea strikes your mind, and you drop to the ground -the woman's sword connects with the wall loudly, sending a few dull sparks flying- and grab her ankles, rolling between her legs. This move sends her face-first into the wall, a trail of blood going from the spot hit to the point where she is now laying.

      You sit on her back, pinning her thin Imperial frame beneath yours, and yank her helmet off, throwing it at her head and onto the the ground. She groans, but you grab her hair with your better arm before she can react. Oh, how you hate killing people. Almost every time, you're filled with guilt, knowing they had a life, and probably had friends, and you were taking them away. Of course, you haven't killed many people that weren't bandits, but it freaks you out nonetheless. You try to push this thought out of your mind, as she was with the people that was going to kill you. There's the fire.

      After closing your eyes, you use her hair and pull her head up, then smash it back down to the ground. You feel her body giving out beneath you, but you lift your left arm again, sending her face back down. An unsettling noise comes from her throat -an almost cry, but gurglish with her blood- and now her body relaxes. You open your eyes slowly, almost retching at all the blood near her face. Thank heavens you can't actually see her face, but you do **NOT** handle this much blood well. You do feel sick at the fact that you have just ended two lives with your own hands, so that's probably not helping either.

      You scramble to the seat and set yourself upon it, resting your head in your hands. Don't think about it, Jake, and you'll be fine. Think of all the adventuring you can do in this snow-ridden land, and all the people you'll be able to meet. You may meet your wife here, who knows? Going back to Jade and her Grandpa in Valenwood afterwards, and possibly retiring from these adventures for a while. Maybe write a book about your adventures! Well, who would even want to read it, though? You suppose every adventurer has escapades such as this, why would this one be special?

      After clearing your head a bit, ~~and some crying~~ , you check the remains of the man (he only has a few septims) then go over to the woman. You were siting in that chair long enough for the blood to dry into an ugly brown-red on the concrete outside the carpet. You pat down her corpse, take a few gold, and then a key. You pray to the Nine that this key unlocks the metal gate door. And that you won't have as much trouble with it as the woman did.

      When you walk over to test it, you find that the Nine were on your side, ( _point THREE, English!_ ) so you step through it quickly, and further into this Keep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dialogue soon. Woot


	3. Things Happen

     The door only opens to a hallway leading to your left, and a cart filled with cabbages in front of you. Some poor man may be upset about losing his cabbages.

     That train of thought is actually really silly, so you begin to walk down the hallway.

     The hallway leads to a set of downward spiraling stairs, which you descend. So far, so good. Most of the people probably died in the attack, anyways, so you should only run into minimal trouble now.

     Ergh, let's... try to never think about that again. It's really depressing. You'll try to affect them in a non-lethal way this time, too.

     After going down the stairs, you're led to a door leading into an open, small room, with a door on the right wall that you go through.

     Another hall (will this just be a labrynth of halls?) is shown, and as you begin to walk down, the Keep begins to shake, and a wall of rubble blockades you from going any further. However, there's a door on the left side of the hall. You enter into a room that was probably used for a kitchen, seeing as there's pheasants, rabbits, and some herbs hanging from the ceiling, along with salt bowls scattered about, and a fireplace.

     You hear a gruffy voice say something you don't quite catch, but you flatten yourself against the beam in the middle of the room.

      _Okay, if I just do what I usually do with these men,_ you think, _then I'll be fine. They'll only be knocked out for an hour._ You take a deep breath, and then exhale from your nose. You've got this, Jake.

     Quickly, you spin around the beam, and make the man in the metal Imperial armour gasp in surprise, so he'll be the first one out. You lunge yourself at him, taking both of you to the ground. You're set uncomfortably on his metal armour though, so this will probably hurt a lot. You swing one of your legs out and knock the other man to the ground. Yep, the metal is digging uncomfortably into your ribs. He groans as his face meets the floor, so you should have a minute.

     You straddle the metal armoured one, who looks furious in every way, and punch him in his temple. Of course, he doesn't go lights out at the first punch, but he hadn't any time to get his sword earlier, which is a big plus. You continue pounding on him as he trashes beneath you, until he finally gives out after a handful more of punches.

     The other man has gotten up however, his face bloody and livid, and his sword drawn. You stand up to meet him, and he instantly lunges his sword at your shoulder. You dodge this by bending your knees slightly, then grab his arm and punch his elbow with your other hand. He howls in pain and releases his sword in favour of cradling his injured elbow.

     You hastily reach an arm under him, and the other around his neck, pick him up, and drop him to the ground. Haha, yep! He's not going to be moving for a while.

     You decide to not scavenge their bodies, except for taking one of the men's satchels, and instead check your surroundings. There's a few potions laying around and in barrels (which you of course take) and you decide to take some of the food and spices. You get hungry! Well, you're actually starved at the moment, and decide to quickly make roasted pheasant.

     After finishing off your snack, you exit the door leading to the other part of the hallway. Most of it is just stairs, but they eventually lead you to... a torture chamber. _What the Hell?_

     There's a dead Stormcloak corpse meeting you at the door to the room. Seriously, what even is this?

     When you enter, you see a Stormcloak and an Imperial cadaver, with a near-death Imperial sitting against a wall.

     ".... Sir? Are.... Are you alright?" You ask, eyeing him suspiciously. This earns you a faint scoff and, "Do I look okay? Just kill me already, kid. I'm going to die slowly if you don't."

      Given earlier, you would prefer not to kill anyone again. You tell him as much. He shakes his head. "Fine, I guess I'm too weak to make you do it, anyways." He opens his eyes to look at you, and then sneers, "Get out of here, then. I've got no use for pathetic strangers."

     You furrow your brows and exit the room semi-slowly, doing your best not to look at a dead mage contained within a cage.

     The hall leading from that room is mainly empty, only stairs. Except a minute down the hall, there's a few larg bird cages with either dead Nords or skeletons. At the end of this hallway of the dead, there's a haphazardly man made hole in the wall, leading into a cave.

      _Finally_ , you're getting somewhere.... hopefully.

     The walls are covered in moss, so there's this lovely green colour splotching most of your rocky surroundings. There's also dirt floating everywhere, and bowls containing fire held up by wood scattered every twenty yards, so at least it's not pitch black in the cave. As you're walking through the halls, you're taken aback by how nice it looks. It's not exactly pristine, but it holds an amazing aura that's almost calming. Well, compared to the rooms filled with people trying to kill you, it gives a far more calming feeling.

     The calmness is stopped abruptly by men's voices. Quite a few of them, too. You slide against the wall, and peer into the room at the end of the cave. It's larger than any room so far, and there's even a small creek running through the middle. Along the edges of the walls, there's a few concrete walkways connected by wooden bridges. Imperial Officers of both armours are walking around and talking. There's only five, so that's good? You have no idea how you'll take them down, though! You could just barely take out two; there's a possibility you may not make it if you take down all five.

     This is definitely what you'd classify as a predicament. Maybe if you go back and take the clothing from one of the people in that torture room, you could sneak past them? At last, a peaceful solution! You'll try to come up with more of those.

     You turn back, sprinting to the room when you feel like you're out of earshot. It takes you a few minutes to get back, but by the time you do, the man from earlier is dead, his head tilted off to one side. Poor fellow.

     Just in case he's not actually dead, you take the leather armour from the other man (it's still pretty much intact, just a few tears here and there) and trade it out for your current rags. It's a bit big, but it's still far better than those rags.

     Now you go back to the room in the cave by jogging slowly. The armour is heavier than what you're used to, but you also hadn't realized how **cold** Skyrim was until you found something thicker than a burlap sack. It _is_ the most Northern place in Tamriel, you think, so it's understandable. But still!

     You stand by the entrance of the room, and think, _I should be fine if I don't act suspicious. Waltz right through there like I OWN the bloody place! Yeah, I've got this in the bag._

     Thankfully, only three of the men look up, probably to check and see if you were an escaped prisoner or a Stormcloak, while the other two kept their conversation without looking. So far, so good!

      As you walk by the three men at their respective places, they only nod their heads at you, which you return. They're far more polite than you originally pinned them for! This makes you feel more guilty about what happened earlier. Maybe the Stormcloaks were actually the ones in the wrong?

     You make it to the two men who hadn't looked earlier. Now they look, and the one to your right asks, "May I help you?"

     Oh drat, you were hoping they'd stay silent and let you pass. Time to make up an answer! "Not in particular! I was just attempting to see my way out."

     Apparently something's wrong with your answer, as one eyebrow from each man is raised. The right man speaks again, "Seeing yourself out? Tullius gave us orders to make sure that civilians were safe, and that _no one_ exited until he said so."

     You try to keep your cool, but your palms are definitely sweating. You're not used to lying! "I was sent to double check outside, in case someone is currently making their way out. I would have left through the main entrance, but it's been blocked by debris."

     The one questioning you looks over at the other man, asking with his eyes if he thinks you're fibbing or not. The other man shrugs and scoots out of the doorway, "If you're killed by the dragon, it's not on my hands."

     By golly, you're relieved! You don't show it, so you're not caught though. Instead, you walk as calmly as you can muster through the doorway, pulling the lever to release the bridge behind them.

     Halfway through walking across, the Keep quakes again, and rocks tumble down from the ceiling in a few places. A rather large one begins to fall above the bridge and **HOLY SMOKES** you don't want to die! You've made it so _far._ You attempt to dash off the bridge, but your legs are still wobbly from the quake, and don't work correctly, so you end up going down with the rocks and bridge the five yards.

     An "oof" emits from your (bleeding) mouth, and you scramble to the nearest wall. Nothing seems to be severely damaged, a few bruises will show by morning, but your rump hurts, so you should probably get off of it. Standing isn't that good either, it seems, because it isn't helping your tailbone hurt any less. But you're a man! You'll walk it off.

     Tears prick your eyes as you 'ignore' the pain, and look around for an exit that doesn't involve climbing back up. There's an.... oddly convenient hole leading to a different part of the cave... You're not even going to question it anymore, just let it happen.

     The next few minutes are very calming, only consisting of walking, picking up some coins and potions, while almost solely following a rocky creek. And then there was the room with five unusually large spiders, but you'd like to forget about those things for as long as you can. There were webs EVERYWHERE and **_bodies hanging from the ceiling by webs._** You won't lie to yourself, you were terrified. Skyrim isn't the most hospitable place, as it seems! You're not sure if adventuring here would be worth it.

     Further into the cave -you feel like you're getting close to the end here- you spot a sleeping cave bear. You have two options: quietly sneak around it on the other side of the creek, or beat it to death with your fists.

     Time to kill a bear!

     You're still going to sneak to it, though. No reason going head first, fists flying to a bear.

     You crouch, moving as silently as you can until you reach him. He's still sleeping peacefully, and it's sort of cute. In a 'could easily tear you to shreds' kind of way.

     You're so close to the bear that you can smell the dirt. And... it's getting up your nose. Oh nonono, don't sneeze, Jake. Sneezing would kill you, and like you said earlier, you've gotten too far to die because you sneezing!

     You sneeze anyways.

     The bear gets on its fours and releases a booming roar that echos off the cave's walls, so you get as quickly as you can onto his back, which causes him to thrash beneath you. It's sort of like riding a wild horse, except you'll die if you fall off or get too close to it's mouth. You wrap your legs around his neck, and continue the assault. He attempts to scratch at you, but only ends up getting himself across his face, blood pouring from the three new scratches, down his fur, and some even gets on your leg.

     You can feel him getting weak, so you tighten your legs around his thick neck. The hair on their bear is scratchy with dirt and uncleanliness, you note.

     The bear stands on his hind legs, and you definitely weren't expecting expecting that! It's exhilarating, nonetheless. You grab underneath the bear's bottom jaw, and when it lowers itself down, you sharply pull it upwards, and the bear is down for the count. Whoo, boy, that was fun! You'll have to try it again another time! No matter how many times you've fought a bear, it's still exhilarating.

     You quickly spring yourself off the bear before it falls over, which would surely have crushed your legs. After admiring him for a brief moment, you continue your walk down the cave.

     It seems to be getting.... colder? That means your either going further down that you'd like, or you're close to an exit.

     After a few more seconds of ~~walking~~ running, you're shown that it's the latter.

     You're finally free from the clutches of Helgen!

      _Point FOUR English!!_

     And into the freezing Hell that it is outside. Regardless, you all but collapse against the nearest rock, gazing into the sky.

     The sky is, surprisingly, really blue. It's not strikingly blue, though. This is a bit more faded, like blue linen that's been washed time and time again.

     The roar of the dragon from earlier pierces the sky like a knife again, and you curl into yourself in a pathetic attempt to hide. You swear you're going to cry if you're in a comfortable place and you think of that blasted thing.

     Speaking of that blasted thing, it flies overhead and to your upper right, far away from you. Knowing that you're probably no longer in danger, you let yourself relax a bit. Hopefully you'll never even see any parts of another dragon in your life ever again. Never seeing it again would be far too soon, in your opinion.

     You sit and enjoy the cool air slowly whipping your short hair and dropping both your heart rate and temperature. Honestly, you wish that you could just sit here until you either froze to death or were contempt with your situation, but you know that would take too long.

      Instead, you stand and begin walking down a (hardly) beaten path.

     Of course, paths are not adventurous enough to sate your adrenaline lust! Er, that sounds a bit weird. Your love of adventure. Yeah, there we go. Any beaten path, even if it's not really even beaten, it not enough to sate your PASSION for ADVENTURE. Haha, yes, there it is.

     Anyways, you decide to travel a bit to the left, and then work your way up from there. You don't really have any plans, so you may as well look around a bit before you hunker down and find a way home!

     The left of the path is mainly consisted of trees, rocks, even _larger_ rocks, and a fine powder of snow (although that seems to be everywhere). Nothing too special.

     At least, until you go a bit further downhill.

     You hear one clash of metal, and you're behind a tree so quickly that you'd have given a riding horse a run for its money. There's more clashing, and then a slick noise of a sword going through something(one?) follow by a groan and a **_*thud.*_** That pattern follows twice more before you hear someone sitting down and looking for something.

      _What just happened,_ you think, _and should I go and see if they're alright?_

     You end up doing just that.

     The second you get past all the trees and around the three tents blocking your view of what happened, you see a rather tired looking High Elf (possibly?) sitting against the post of one tent, cleaning off a bloodied dagger. There's... not as much blood as you were expecting, honestly, but he looks far too calm! He just murdered three people (sure, they were bandits, but _still_ )!

     He takes a few seconds to notice you, but when he does, his orange eyes shoot up and lock with yours, a mix of annoyed, exhausted, and terrified. Neither of you move.

* * *

     Your name is DIRK STRIDER and there's only one word repeating itself as your eyes are stuck on a pair of evergreen coloured eyes:  
_Shit._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This wasn't supposed to be posted until Friday, but I forgot today was Jake/Jade's birthday, so HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THEM.


	4. In Which New Characters Are Introduced

     Oh, wow, um, what exactly are you going to do now? His amber eyes are obviously nothing special for a High Elf, but they're really.... enrapturing. And seem to be holding you down to your spot. 

     His features are really soft for a High Elf. By his yellowed skin, you can definitely say he's one, but his cheekbones aren't unusually pronounced, or his chin, or his nose. His nose looks more like Nord's, but like a female Nord, not a male. It's too dainty to be a male's. Well, actually _most_ of him looks delicate and slim. Except his muscles. Those are definitely not dainty, but they're not as bulging as yours. Yours are crafted from adventures, his are crafted like a swimmer's. He also has a small gotee growing under his lip, and his long hair pulled back into a low ponytail. 

     He's getting up now to (hopefully) interrogate you. He walks around the fire, straight up to you with his knife ready, and speaks, "Who are you and what are you doing here?" His voice is also seeping with exhaustion ~~and anger~~ , but it's still smooth and calculated. The only thing that show his emotions are his eyes; his eyebrows don't move, and his mouth is in a straight line, so his thin, smooth lips (what?) don't become and thinner. 

     Oh yeah, you didn't answer him! Whoops. "My name is Jake English," you reply, "and I've just escaped from Helgen. Do y-" 

     "Helgen?" He interrupts, almost amused, "You don't look like any sort of criminal to me. What were you doing there?" 

     Thank the Gods, he backs up and looks ready for a conversation, not stabbing. "Well, I was attempting to get over the border after seeing my friend but I walked into an Imperial ambush! It was horrible. And then I was taken there on a cart with a few other Stormcloaks, and then Helgen was attacked by a dragon of all things! That was even worse than being caught." That was a lot more than you intended to say, but oh well, he looks like a nice fellow! But really,Jake? You just told a stranger your entire day. 

     Oh, so that thing in the sky _was_ a dragon. Huh," he says a bit dazed, then sits down. "But why the hell are you here? At this camp. Chose your words wisely, Breton, or this knife," he holds it between his thumb and pointer for emphasis, then points the blade at you, "is goin' in your neck like those bandits." Now he relaxes against the tent again, awaiting your answer with a raised eyebrow. 

     Oh geez! You thought you were on his good side! Uhm, you could stall him until you think if something better? Yeah! Yeah... "I told you! I just got out from Helgen, and just went out from there! It hasn't been that long, please don't kill me." You didn't mean to say that last part, but it comes out as a whisper so he may have not heard it? 

     He smirks (he definitely heard it), "Do you plan on telling anyone about me, or what you see at this camp? I'm not exactly a Thalmor, so if you run off and tell Mom, I'll be dead almost as quickly as you." 

      "N-No, of course not! I just want to go back to Valenwood and see my sist-" 

     "STOP RIGHT THERE, IN THE NAME OF THE LAW!" You hear a loud male cut you off. It doesn't sound like a Nord or an Imperial, though. What kind of guards do they have in Skyrim?? 

     Khajiit. Khajiit are what they have. Small, short tailed Khajiit who are very angry with booming voices. The Guard eyes you both, hissing lowly, and gestures to the three dead bodies on the ground, "Which one of you did this?" 

     You and the Elf eye one another for a second, then -at the same time- point at each other and say, "He did it!" 

     You snap your head back at him, "What?! I just got here! And y-" 

     "Who are you trying to kid? You're the one that helped me take them out." 

     Before you can say anything else in your defense, the Khajiit folds his arms and looks far too smug when he says: "Fine, I'll just take you BOTH in." He quickly pulls out his bow and shoots you both in the arm. Apparently, the tips of the arrows were covered in a paralysis potion, as you both fall to the ground, still as rocks. 

* * *

 

        --- **A few days earlier **\---****

 

     "Oh my Gods, you shit," you say, lightly shoving his shoulder. 

     He only looks at you with his goddamn blue as heck eyes, then complains, "Oh, come on, Dave! The guards never get upset about my jokes, only you do! They're great pranks." 

     "You and I have very different definitions of 'great' since yours are old as Hell. Seriously, don't you just get them from a book your grandfather or whoever gave you when you were thirteen?" 

     "Yes my Grandpa did, but they are the best pranks in Cyrodiil. If they WERE so old, then how come people keep falling for them? Huh, Dave?" He looks at you before facing the stony pathways of the Imperial City, "Actually, don't answer that. Just shut up." 

     Haha, you won this time. Take that, Egbert. 

     You continue down the streets, not really doing anything. Today you have the day off from you guard duties, and like Hell if you weren't going to spend it with your best bro. Do you two just decided to walk the streets for a while and talk, occasionally him pulling small pranks or God awful magic tricks to random a passersby. Poor people. That's basically some form of torture. 

     You've walked the streets about a hundred times today alone, but before you'd like it to end, it does. 

     Because of a guard. 

     What? Aw HELL no, it's your day off, go away. 

     He walks up a bit winded, and hands you a letter. "Sir Dave," shoo, go away dude, "Here's your orders." 

     "What in Oblivion do you mean _'my orders'?_ It's my day off." 

     He eyes John, who looks as confused as you feel, then turns to you, "I... I think you should read it." 

     Uuuugh, "Uuuugh, fine. You're dismissed." 

     He nods curtly to the both of you, then runs back. You open the letter (uuuugh) and begin reading. 

     "What the shit," you deadpan. 

     John raises an eyebrow, "What's it say?" 

     "I'm being sent to Skyrim, because of the huge civil conflict. And I have to leave in two days." 

     John looks kind of upset. Aww, poor guy, "What? But Dave, we were supposed to go watch the Arena tomorrow!" The shit even pulls out a pout from his pocket of tricks. 

     You card your fingers through your bangs and close your eyes. "Yeah, we can still do that, but I'll have to get ready right after that." 

     "Shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit," he groans, "You're going to leave me all alone, and so bored, Dave. So bored." 

     "Well," you turn to him, trapping his crystal blue eyes with your blood red ones, "you could come with me?" You don't want to be there without anyone else. It's not exactly like being a guard comes with the perk of the other guards being friendly. They're mostly assholes, yourself included. 

     "I'm.... not sure if my Dad would let me. I do have to run the store with him..." He bites his lower lip with his oversized front teeth, and you wish you could be doing that for him. Okay, no, that's weird and he's straighter than a board. Stop that, Dave. Chill. "Although I guess it could be fun going to Skyrim! I've heard that there's snow everywhere, like, all the time, or that's what Jane tells me. Oh, and then we could go visit her! " 

     Aha, got him. You ruffle his hair, "How about we go talk to your Dad, then? Right now, man. We're doing this. We're making this happen." 

     He smiles his goofy grin, "Heck yeah, man! Let's do this." You barely pull up a corner of your lips, and you're sure that makes him want to piss himself with happiness. You're dragged off to his house after that, to discuss the possibility (haha, more like the inevitability) of him going with you to Skyrim. 

     His speech skills are close to divine, so of course his father says yes, along with a speech of how proud he is of his son going to a place of war without any worries, and then you two are off and packing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Birthday Dirk and Dave. I'm super sorry, but chapters three and four are really short, and the John and Dave parts take place before the Jake and Dirk ones


	5. Flirtatious Striders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, flirty Striders are my favourite

     "Ugh, this ride is bumpy as heck. You are the worst gentleman." 

     "You could always sit in my lap," you wiggle your eyebrows, "but I can't say that won't have a bump either." 

     "Oh my Gods, Dave!" He shoves you into the other side of the wagon while laughing. 

     You shrug, "You just passed up a great opportunity, Egbuns. Ladies are always fighting over just a look at my gorgeous face, and here I am, offering my lap to you and you shoot me down like that." You smirk at him, and then face the front of the wagon, "Hey! When are gonna arrive at Whitewalk?" 

     You can hear the driver sigh from back here, "White _run_ , Sir. It should only be a day at most. Oh, and could you two keep the lewd comments down back there? My horses aren't used to hearing that blasphemy." 

     John mutters, "Sorry, Equius..." 

     You roll your eyes, "Chill, dude. Equius is overly sensitive about his horses." Another sigh from the front. "You think you can handle another day of such a lumpy road? Will your butt survive, John? That would be a tragedy to loose such a choice ass." 

     "Shut up, Dave. Me and my rump will be fine." 

     "Did you seriously just call it your 'rump'?" 

     "Yes, I did!" 

     "Jake's been rubbing off on you, then. Too bad it wasn't me." 

     "Shut the hell up, he has not." He rolls his eyes, then looks at you to stick out his tongue for added effect. 

     Oh my Gods. "John, you're twenty-seven, not five. Put that tongue back in your mouth." 

     "Fine, whatever. I'm going to take a nap, then!" 

     "Alright. I probably will too in a bit, and I won't object if you're up to wagon snuggles in the meantime." 

     He kicks your ankle lightly, "Go to bed." 

     "'Night, Egghead." 

     "It's only thre- you know what, goodnight, Dave." 

     You smirk at yet another victory, and close your eyes, ignoring your head bumping the wooden wall of the carriage. 

* * *

     You sit up slowly, groaning as almost all of your spine pops. That really hurt! It felt like you were a stone statue given life! Why would you even feel like that? Maybe it was an uncomfortable bed? 

     When you look down at your bed, it's not a bed. Only a small pile of hay with some animal skin over it. A quick gaze ahead shows metal bars and a wall a few feet away on the other side. Everything's made out of stone, though, which reminds you a lot of a.... 

     Crap. You're in a jail! 

      _Why are you in-_

     .... 

     A look to your left and, sure enough, that bloody Altmer is laying right there on the same type of cot, sleeping peacefully! 

     You're going to slap him when he wakes up. 

     Actually, you're going to slap him right now! He deserves it after throwing you under the wagon like that! 

     You crawl off your cot, over to his, sit on your knees, and reel your hand back. Oh, this is going to hurt like the Dickens for him! You really hope it does, anyways! 

     His eyes open to a squint and looks at your scowling face, then trails his eyes up your arm, and to your open palm. His eyes shoot open almost fast enough to send his eyelids to his eye sockets, sits up a little and stammers, "Wait, what are you- No, no, n-" 

      _ ***SMACK***_

     " _SHIT_ fuckcrapdammithellfucki-" He grabs the side of his face that has a new hand-sized red mark on it. "By the NINE, WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!" 

     You're flabbergasted, "What do you THINK that was for!?" You gesture to your surroundings, "THIS is what it's for! We're in _jail!_ And _you're_ the reason I'm here!" 

     He hisses, "That is one hell of a way to say good morning. Just give me a bit and I'll get us out of here." He continues to clutch his cheek and mutter curses under his breath. 

     "How long is a bit, then? I have a friend to see, and you have things to steal, I presume" 

     "Oh, don't even pull that thief stuff on me, I'm sick of it. I know I'm shit already, I don't need you shoving it back in my face. A bit will be whenever I'm done, Jake." He speaks your name like it pains him. You- well, you don't actually know his name. 

     You sit back on your butt, since the stone floor was killing your knees, "You never told me your name. You at least owe me that much for this crap." "I owe you nothing, man." 

     "You want a matching mark on the other side of your face?" 

     "You wouldn't dare." 

     You raise your hand, "Okay, fine, fine. My name is Dirk." 

     "Dirk? That's unique, especially for an Altmer." 

     "Jake isn't exactly common, either." He sighs and sits up, back against the wall, "Sorry about dragging you here, I guess. It was a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing?" 

     You shake your head, "I'm not sorry about slapping you. That was still a rude thing to do! Do you realize that I've been confined twice in one day?" 

     He chuckles, "Oh yeah. Whoops." He puts his hand on the back of his neck, "And now that you're more civil, I'll just tell you: a little probably means around a day...?" 

     BLAST IT! Getting angry and fighting him would only make you stay here longer, so you exhale loudly from your nose in an attempt to calm yourself. "Alright. Alright, that's okay. At least there's no.... giant reptilian creatures here." Oh please don't jinx it. 

     "I guess, but there's always the creepy guy in the cell over. And the guard that gets off on watching you suffer," he smirks, looking at you again. Hopefully he'll be this.... non-snarky for a while. 

     "Geez, I hope not. I already have a weird enough man sharing my cell. I don't think I could handle another." "That's no way to talk to a lady." 

     "What!" What? 

     "Oh my Gods," he snorts, actually snorts, "I'm kidding. Get your knickers out that twist you've got going." His face slowly goes back into its usual poker face after a minute, and you two sit in silence. Very awkward cellmate silence. 

     You cannot wait to get out of this place. Tell Jane of all that's happened, talk to John and his friend Dave on your way back to Jade and Grandpa. You sort of wonder if Dirk has anyone like that. Surely he's not a thief for the heck of it? 

     After making the four second crawl back to your cot, you face him. "Hey Dirk?" He looks away from the wall outside the cell and to you, raising his eyebrow again. "Do you have anyone to go home to?" 

     "Are you proposing to me, Jake? I didn't think you were ready for that quite yet." 

     Oh Talos, he's infuriating! "No, Strider, you know what I meant!" He looks back at the wall, "Then I don't believe that's any of your business." 

     "I told you some things about me! And we're going to be here for a bit, so open yourself up a little." You hope you're convincing enough. Jade never buys it, but hopefully he will? 

     After almost a minute of mulling it over, he responds. "No, I don't." He doesn't seem to want to elaborate further than that, but you're still going to think about it! 

     Maybe he ran away? Or his family died? Possibly he had a wife that left him, or he left her? Oh! Or h- 

     "You're thinking way too loud. Before you think I'm a mind reader or something, I mean that you are so deep in thought that your eyesbrow are furrowed almost off your head, and your lips are moving slightly." 

     You blush from embarrassment. You hope he doesn't think you were trying to impose anything! 

      #"Maybe if we meet again, I will share my sob story to you while I'm drunk off my ass," he scoffs, but refuses to part his eyes from the wall. 

     He seems terribly lonely.... Maybe he could travel with you while you're in Skyrim? You just feel sort of guilty that he has nothing to go to at the end of the night. 

     "What.... Well, how would you- Oh geez, I hope you don't think this is rash-" 

     "I'm all up for jumping into new things, babe." 

     Oh my GOSH you're trying to be nice and he keeps doing that weird flirt-thing. "Dirk, shut up and let me finish!" He does. "Thank you. Well, what do you plan on doing after you get out of here?" 

     He thinks for a moment, "If everything goes right, I'll be doing you." 

     "CONFOUND IT! Dirk! Would. You like. To accompany me. In my travels?" Why do you even try? 

     There's several moments of silence before he speaks up again, but it's barely audible, "I'll think about it." He then slides his eyes over to you, "You should probably get to sleep, sugarplum, you look tired as hell." 

     You believe that that was a possible 'yes' so you do a small, triumphant smile. "Yes, fine. I'll see you when I wake up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters usually won't come out as fast as they have, but I've been feeling really motivated and have yet to have writer's block. Four and five should also be the shortest, which is why I'm publishing them one after the other.


	6. Introducing: Lesbians

     "Hey, get up, Jake." 

     A kick lands itself in your side and you groan. "It is far too early for this Dirk." 

     "Well, if we do this any later, it'll be next week. Get your ass up, now." 

     You do so, but very slowly. You yawn out sounds that are supposed to be: "So, how are we doing this?" 

     He eyes you for a moment, trying to figure it out. Then it clicks, "Oh. You just leave that up to me, baby. Just do what I say as fast as your brain and body can handle." 

     Que another groan. "Alright. Let's hurry this up." 

     He puts a finger to your lips to hush you as a guard comes by, acting completely oblivious to you two. Dirk drops himself to the ground, waits until the guard is as close to your cell as he can get, then Dirk grabs his ankle through the bars and yanks his foot as far in as possible. This sends the guard to the ground face first, and probably knocks him out? You can't see due to his helmet. 

     Dirk grabs the keys from his waist and uses it to open the lock to your cell. He motions for you to stay still as he opens it just wide enough to drag the guard's unconscious body in. 

     He leans in, "I'm gonna take and wear his clothes so I can go get you some, and we can walk out of here unnoticed. Got it?" 

     You nod, and he begins to transfer the guard clothes onto his body. After he finishes, he looks like he could pass as a guard. Well, after he puts on the helmet, anyways. 

     He pushes the guard onto his cot, then exits to get you a pair of clothes. You've never broken out of prison (let alone been in a cell for a crime) so this is making you really nervous. Because you're sure if you mess this up, it'll be taken as a capital offence! You're not ready for that. 

     But Dirk's ready for you, apparently, since he shoves the Guard Armour into your arms and tells you to hurry the fuck up. Which you do. 

     The armour is a lot heavier than the leather Imperial Armour by far. Thankfully, you probably won't be wearing it for long. And the helmet makes it very difficult to breathe, but it's going to get you out of here alive. 

     He ushers you up and out of the cell, locking it behind you two, then leans in to whisper, "This prison looks similar to all the other ones, so I should be able to get us out pretty quick. Come on." You're... pretty sure that is supposed to be reassuring, so that's how you'll take it! 

     You follow him like a dog around the prison, and he was right: the guards give you no mind at all as you walk through the halls. You're pretty sure that's not a good thing, but oh well. You can't complain. 

     Well, there was the first few guards, though. They hadn't looked at you, but you were extremely nervous, so you decided to say: "Hello, fellow guards!" You were given raised eyebrows from them, and a jab in the side from Dirk. He played it off, saying, "Oh, he's new and awkward. Don't mind him." They nodded as if they understood, then went back to their conversations. You weren't allowed to speak again. 

     The both of you are out fairly quickly, and you _know_ this place as soon as you take a step out! 

     He takes two more steps before you grip his arm while not looking at him, but he looks at you to hiss out "What?" 

     "Dirk, I know where we are! We're in Whiterun!" 

     He obviously doesn't know what that means, because he takes off his helmet to give you a puzzled expression. "Why does that matter?" 

     "Jane is here, Dirk! We can just go to her to give us new looks!" 

     "Why." 

     "Because we just escaped from a prison, and are wanted?" 

     "Jake, you are not changing anything about my appearance." 

     You decide to ignore him, keep hold of his arm, and drag him to Jane's inn: The Bannered Mare. 

     You let go of his arm when you're both in front of the door. "When we go inside remember we're guards, so Jane won't be anywhere near as friendly as she usually is. She abhors guards. Just let me do the talking, okay?" 

     He nods from behind his helmet, "Yeah, okay." 

     Dirk opens the door for you to enter (wow, he can be a gentleman?) and you wait for him to enter behind you before walking up to the counter. 

     The atmosphere of her inn is warm and inviting, unlike the scowl you're met with from a short, chubby Wood Elf, just as you had expected. Her hair looks better than it had a week ago, so you suppose one of her friends is visiting, or at least had been? It's still in the pixie cut, but it looks like time was actually spent styling it. Jane's nose is small, like her, and usually noted as 'adorable', like her. Her skin isn't as dark as most Bosmer's are, since she's inside all the time, labouring over her inn. That's probably why she has light bags under her baby blue eyes. 

     She puts on a sickly sweet smile before asking you with a venom filled voice, "May I help you two gentlemen?" 

     Dirk sounds like he's about to say something, but you cut him off with your elbow. You lower your voice, just in case, when you say, "Yes ma'am. But in private." 

     She looks like it takes everything she has to not roll her eyes before she answers. "Fine. Follow me." 

     She steps out from behind the counter and walks to another room. When you and Dirk enter, you turn around, shut the door, and lock it. Jane's absolutely appalled when she hisses, "What in Oblivion do you think you're doi-" 

     You turn quickly, remove your helmet and smile, hoping she won't break you nose from scaring her. "Hey, Jane!" 

     She relaxes noticeably, "Oh! Jake, what are you doing back so soon?" 

     You eye Dirk and mentally tell him to remove his helmet. Which he does, and you're not so sure that he's not a telepath anymore. "That's a long story that I'd love to tell you later! However, I've got a favour to ask of you." 

     "Once you tell me who that is, and why you're wearing guard's armour." 

     "Oh, he's Dirk!" Dirk gives a short, two finger wave, "We're wearing it because... actually, that's part of the story! And so is he." 

     She looks Dirk over with her 'observation eyes' and asks, "What do you want Jake?" 

     "Well... I need you to change our appearances some...?" 

     "Why?" 

     "Part of the story, Jane! Part of the story." 

     "Then you're going to tell me that story before I rip y-" 

     "Jaaaaaannneeeey!" 

     You think Jane mutters, "Why can't I just get an answer," before calling out, "In the guest room, Roxy!" 

     You hurriedly unlock the door, and when you turn around, Dirk has gone stiff as a rock. Before you can ask why, Roxy jumps into the room. 

     Roxy is a graceful Nord with blazing pink eyes, the only reason you're able to tell she's not all Nord. Her hair is in a longer bob than Jane's and the purest blonde possible, which could be another tip to her mixed-race. She's downright the most beautiful Nord in Tamriel that you've seen so far. If Jane wasn't already with her, Roxy would be one heck of a bachelorette. 

     "Who are- Jakey!" She embraces you tightly, which you gladly return. She's a bit taller than you, so it's a bit awkward. "And who's tha..." Dirk still hasn't moved, but Roxy seems determined to do make him, because she socks him in the shoulder. 

     "By the Nine, I'd know that pale hair anywhere! Dirky, why didn't you tell me you were in Skyrim?" 

     He turns slowly, and now you see that he's gotten the yellow scared right out of him. He looks next to death when he speaks up. "Hey, Roxy..." 

     Kane looks amused as hell, "Oh, so _this is him?_ " 

     You feel kind of left out! "What does that mean??" 

     Roxy slings her arm over Dirk's shoulder. "Oh, Dirk's m-" she eyes him, "-y friend!" 

     Oh. Well. Hmm. 

     "Hey, Roxy," Jane's much sweeter now, "close the door and sit your butt down on the bed." While Roxy does that, Jane turns to you two, "You too, Dirk," he does, "and Jake, sit in that chair." 

     "Alright...?" You're probably about to be slapped, if you're lucky. 

     Once you're all seated and as comfortable as you can get with Jane's eyes burning holes through each of you, she barks, "Explain." 

     The three of you exchange weary glances before you start telling her what's happened. 

     "Well, I was trying to cross the border after seeing you, but I was caught in an Imperial ambush... After that, I was taken to Helgen. Right before I could get executed," Jane's face scrunches up in concern, "a dragon attacked a-" 

     You're stopped by Roxy whisper-screaming "What?!" and Jane shushing her. 

     "-and destroyed the town. After that, I... escaped," you chose to leave out everything that happened at the Keep, " and met Dirk after he took out a few bandits. Before he could kill me...," Jane snaps her head to Dirk, who looks scared out of his skin now, "Oh Jane, call down! I've already hit him for the next part. Before he could kill me, we were arrested and taken to the jail here. We escaped by disguising as guards and, well, now we're here! I'd like to get a new look so we're not recognized easily!" 

     Jane looks exasperated by all this, and takes a minute to rerun the information in her head. She sighs. "Alright. Alright... Roxy and I will get on that, then." Jane clutches her hair in her hands, releasing a long groan. 

     Roxy smiles, "Aww yes! Makeover time. I call Dirk!" 

     Jane eyes between the two of them. "I trust you, Roxy, but I think you should take Jake." 

     She shrugs, "Cool by me, love. C'mere, Jake," then makes grabbing hands in your direction. 

     Dirk looks like he's about to wet himself at the idea of Jane having a knife near him. "Are you sure you want that? I mean, I'm not exactly the b-" He stops when he sees that the glare Jane is sending his way is close to making sparks, then gives up. "If I die, it's on your hands, English." 

     You give him a sympathetic smile before Jane takes him to another room, leaving you alone with Roxy. She smiles a wicked grin before asking, "So, you got the hots for Dirky?" She punctuated it with the waggling of her eyebrows, in a way that was really similar to how Dirk does it. 

     Oh, yes, the question. "Pardon me?" 

     "Bluh, the way you kept looking at Dicky was adorable! I thought there was some kind of magic happening between the two of you," she says idly, while messing with your hair in an attempt to style it. Good luck, Roxy! 

     "I assure you, nothing magical is happening. He may be attractive-" 

     Oh drat. 

     Roxy smirks, "Eeeeeeeeeeyyy-" 

     You tsk her, "You didn't let me finish. There _might_ be magic, if he weren't so insufferable and flirtatious!" 

     "Well, here's a little thing about the SriLonds, Jake: we flirt! I think Dirk does it because he's a lonely little boy." 

     What? You never really considered that he may actually be lonely... No, and you won't. Not yet. If he really wants to be friends with you, let alone anything further than that, he'll have to be civil! You tell her just that. 

     "Oh, Jakey. Give him a chance, huh? I'm not saying you have to get busy with him," oh geez, Lalonde, "but don't be so impatient! Wait a little bit, you'll warm up to him." She leans over you to kiss your nose, then sticks out her tongue. "Before you warm up to him, you need to take a bath. You taste like dirt." 

     You both sit in a comfortable silence while she messes with your hair, sometimes pulling a bit too hard. You guess you'll be more patient with him, if possible. He still may want to come with you, so you'll have to be around him for the next while. Fighting the entire time would be frivolous. At least verbally fighting. 

     "You never explained the dragon." 

     "You're right, I didn't! Thank you for reminding me. Well, I guess there's not that much to explain, really! I was just laying down, about to die, and the dragon appeared from the sky and made everyone freak out, myself included." 

     She's starting to trim your hair now, so this is a good distraction. You love Roxy, but her with a knife scares you. She trains at the College Of Winterhold, so she doesn't know all too much about knives. "What did it look like?" 

     Oh wow. "It was huge! It could curl up on the top of a watchtower and take up most of it. Most of its scales were black as night, and terrifying. All sharp as a knife, too. Several horns adorned its head, and its wings were huge and leathery." 

     She "hmm"s, and continues on your hair. 

* * *

     "So, what do you want done to your hair, Dirk?" 

     Jane has you trapped in a corner, since you've already tried to escape once. This is kind of pathetic, though. You're almost twice as tall as she is. What she lacks in height, though, she uses to bore into you with those damn eyes. It scares you shitless. 

     "How about we don't do anything to my hair?" 

     "Didn't know you had a lust for being in jail." 

     "I don't-" 

     "Then we're doing something to your hair." She backs up and nods to the floor in front of a chair, "Sit down, please." 

     You do as she says. "Why do you want to kill me, Jane?" 

     The chair squeaks behind you as she sits down. "You tried to kill Jake. He's basically family. Tell me you wouldn't be upset if someone tried to kill yours." Your nose scrunches up for a brief moment, and she catches on. "Dirk... You do have a family, right?" "So what were you thinking about doing with my hair?" 

     She's gentler than you thought, because she drops it, and instead grabs onto your ponytail, "I was thinki-" 

     You interrupt her by yanking your hair from her and glowering. She raises her thin eyebrows, as if it were a challenge. "You are **not** cutting off over half of my hair." 

     "It's a chore though, long hair. Plus, you'd look better to Jake with shorter hair." Jane smirks as if she's won something. 

     "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Jane?" 

     "It _means_ that only someone as clueless as Jake hasn't noticed you ogling over him, Dirk." You begin to say something, but she starts before you can, so you face away from her. "Oh, don't be like that. Jake's a nice guy, I'm not surprised you like him. And it seems he has a little thing for you too, but he doesn't realize it yet. Poor Jake." 

     "I don't think you can say that about him." 

     "We're basically family, like I told you. He just doesn't think he likes men, so don't push him too hard, okay? But he will need some shoves here and there. And while I'm not.... elated about his choice, I still want Jake to be happy," she drops something into your lap, "and you too. Only because no ones deserves to be sad. Just stop eyeing him so much, especially in my presence." 

     When you look down at your lap, you only have one word to say to her: "Fuck." This, of course, is followed by a string of curses in your head, but you're too astonished to say them. 

     She's laughing a really bubbly laugh now, "Oh, and I cut off your hair already. Hope you don't mind." 

     You smirk, then toss it back at her. Now she's trying to spit hair out of her mouth. Ha. "At least style it, then. I'm sure it doesn't look that hot right now." 

     She's still clawing hair off her tongue for another minute before she replies, "No, it doesn't. Lean your head back some, and I'll get right to it." 

     While she's making your hair look less like a murder accident, you figure it's your time to interrogate the bitch, "Now would you like to tell me what's up between you and Rox?" 

     "No." 

     What. "You just verbally, and almost physically, beat me to a pathetic pulp. Let me have my turn." 

     You can basically _hear_ her roll her eyes. "I guess. I'm surprised she didn't tell you, though. Actually, never mind. You haven't visited or mailed her lately, so I'm not surprised." Ouch. "Anyways, we're a very happy couple, if you must know." 

     "Really? I missed some shit. When did she get into angry Bosmer?" 

     That earns you a smack on the top of your head with the butt of the knife before she begins trimming again. "Hush, you. She likes me because... well, I don't know exactly. But she does, and I'm grateful." 

     "Mhm, and how much do you like her?" 

     "I- wait, that is NONE of your business! Why do you even ask?" 

     Time to bullshit half of a sentence again, "Because her and I are very close, and I want to know if you have any intentions of hurting Roxy." 

     She sets down the knife and plays with your bangs for a few seconds before deciding she should answer. "I would never hurt Roxy. Ever." Jane stands from behind you, and then kneels in front of you with a small jar of some thick liquid. "Close your eyes." 

     Oh no, you don't like where this is going. "Why?" 

     "Close your eyes, Dirk! I'm going to put war paint on your face." 

     " _Why?_ " 

     She groans, "You sound like a child. I'm doing this to make you even less recognizable to the Guards." 

     "I don't need paint on my face. I'll be fine without it, Jane." 

     "Close your eyes, or I will sew them shut." 

     "Violent mu-," she glares, "-... alright, alright." You shut your eyes and wait as she spreads cool paint from your eyes to your jaw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha, you were probably thinking of the wrong lesbians. I also don't think Jane would be happy with guards because they're annoying, stupid, and weak (in comparison to Oblivion guards)


	7. ==> Be Dave

     This is probably the worse ride ever. Equius just _has_ to keep stopping at every other town for his horses to stay "pristine," which is why you're in this Imperial settled town in Skyrim. It starts with an 'H' you think? You weren't paying much attention to Equius when he told you and John that you'd be stopping again for the umpteenth time. 

     You were helping John out of the cart when you finally decided to look around. 

     This place looked really friendly, but also poorer than what you were used to. Most of the buildings were built from wood with straw on the tops of the roofs. There's a large stone wall encasing you within the town, with all exits guarded by soldiers and heavy, locked wooden gates. You suppose it was an okay town, but nothing similar to 'super hospitable' by any means. 

     Equius nods his head to your right, "We're staying at the inn over here for the night. There's a barmaid who lent us two rooms for the night." 

     "Alright, lead the way." 

     If he rolls his eyes one more time, you're afraid they won't stop rolling in his head. An endless loop of eye rolling Equius. You have to take his sass in stride, though, since his horses are the fastest in Cyrodiil. He's an alright guy too, but he sweats more than what should be able to have him hydrated. Equius is also really... really built, even for a Nord. His hair is shoulder-length, black as night, and straighter than John, and he usually ties it back into a rat tail if he has to work. 

     John grabs your arm, practically dragging you to the inn. What a punk. 

     When the three of you enter, you're met with a refreshing warmth that the nature of Skyrim lacks. When Equius leads you two to the innkeeper, they in turn pointed their finger in the direction of a tall, round woman cleaning glasses behind the bar. Your amazing deductive skills lead you to believe that they're the barmaid that gave you three somewhere to stay. 

     She meets your group with sparkling rust coloured eyes and full lips pulled into a smile. The woman is a Dark Elf, so you're surprised she's as... full as she is. Not obese or anything, but not the scrawny things most Dunmer are. Her voice is bubbly and soothing when she speaks. "Hello! You're part of Equius's gang?" 

     Oh fucking hell, Equius is next to blushing his ears off, but the low lighting keeps it from showing too much. He nods, "Yes. This is them, Aradia." 

     "Okay, then follow me and I'll show you to your rooms! Well," she stops halfway across the floor, then turns to face you, "there's only two rooms that I could get -there's some Imperial meet happening tomorrow. I'm sorry, I hope you can figure that arrangement out." Aradia gives a small smile before walking upstairs, with you all following like ducks behind her. 

     You're stopped sooner than expected, which causes John to bump into your back, an apology attempting to get out from his mouth, but becomes a mess up sputtering before he gives up. The barmaid motions to two rooms on either side of her. "These are yours for the night, but the innkeeper said that if you wanted to stay any longer, you'd have to pay her gold for it. Enjoy your stay!" After that, she walks back downstairs. 

     You nod to Equius, "Calm down, man. Go get the lady; I'll bunk with John." He scowls before walking to the first floor in defeat. You smirk, then shoulder the door to open, walking backwards into one of the beds. This, of course, you play off as smooth as possible, by flopping down onto the mattress. Hell yeah, there we go. 

     John eyes you for a moment, trying to dissect your mess-up, but retires to his own bed and moans, "Holy _shit_ I forgot how good beds were. I was afraid that we'd be stuck napping on that thing forever." 

     "Quiet Egbert, the people in the room over may think we're up to some hanky panky." 

     "Fuck off and let me sleep, Dave." He rolls over to face you, emitting a creak from the bed beneath him. "Seriously, lay down. It's heaven compared to the wooden bench." 

     You rolls you eyes, "Fine, fine. I will succumb to your tempting ways." Slowly, you lower yourself onto the mattress, and.... well damn, this is great. But you won't let him know he's right when he eyes you as if he's won a tournament. "So... You want me to repeat your moan of pleasure, or regale you with the fact that this feels like any other shitty bed?" 

     He scowls at you. "Liiies. I know you enjoy the bed. If it's so uncomfortable, then sleep on the floor." 

     "Nope. I wouldn't give you the satisfaction." 

     "Whatever! You know you love to satisfy me." He wiggles his eyebrows you in an attempt to be suave, but ends up failing by breaking out into a laughing fit. 

     "That was really pathetic, you know. You didn't even last three seconds." 

     "It _would_ have been, though. It's the thought that counts." 

     "Then think yourself to sleep, John." 

     "Yeah, okay. Only because I'm exhausted." 

     You smirk and pull the covers to your shoulders, not even bothering with changing out of your day clothes (or shoes) and into nightclothes. John mirrors your actions, except he actually removes his shoes, kicking them from beneath the covers and onto the floor. "See you in the morning, John." 

     "Good afternoon, Dave." 

     With that, you close your eyes and await sleep. 

* * *

      _You awaken to a purple tinted room made of stone bricks. It seems everything is purple, from the floor to the bed you're currently half-laying down on, and hot damn, it's a comfortable bed._

      _When you look down at your apparel, you find yourself cloaked in purple, long-sleeved robes, with a fuzzy white and purple striped collar, and a lavender crescent moon adorning the chest. It's rather fancy, and you feel like a douche wearing it._

      _A rustle sounds beside you, and you instinctively grab at your hip for your katana.... that isn't there. Great. You'll have to face whoever it is with only your fists. You've always sucked ass at hand-to-hand combat, so you desperately hope they're worse than you, if it's possible._

      _When you face your opponent, you find a young Altmer lady with short, platinum blonde hair like yours, and purple robes to match your own, the only difference is that hers are fitted for a lady. She smiles warmly at you with black painted lips, speaking smoothly and calculated. "Ah, you're awake." She slides her legs off the bed to dangle, then starts kicking them like a child would on a healer's bed._

      _You are_ so _not up for meeting someone new, especially right now. "Who in Oblivion are you?"_

     "Rose. Sorry for waking you here, and especially the purple hue on everything, but this always happens." 

     "Where is 'here'?" 

      _She frowns slightly,_ "I wish I knew. It kind of resembles my room, but cleaner and purple. Well, to actually answer your question, I believe it's the place my mind takes me when I attempt to contact someone this way." 

      _What the everloving FUCK is she going on about?_

     "The everloving fuck that I'm going on about is really nonsense. It's a way I can communicate to others far away while asleep. I've tried to contact you because you really need to get up." 

     "I thought you said I was up." 

     "You technically are? But in the wrong body. Regardless, you really do need to wake up as soon as possible. Right now would be preferable." 

     "And why is that, exactly?" 

     "Would you just-" _She groans,_ "Please, just trust me for the moment. I know something is about to happen. Well, it's currently happening, which is why," _she stares into your eyes,_ "you need to get up right. Now. Please, I'd like to meet you before you die." 

      _What? How does she even know anything?_

     "I... Well," _she holds up a small, white sphere about the size of her hand,_ "this thing is how I know." _She frowns deeper,_ "And it's telling me that if we keep talking and you stay asleep as long as usual, you're going to be crushed." 

      _You open your mouth to ask something, but she's one step ahead of you, so she grabs a ball of yarn (holy shit, there's a lot of them on her side of the room) and chunks it at your head._

      _The ball of presumably soft yarn feels like a rock when it hits your forehead, and sends you back into a blinding hot darkness._

* * *

     "DAVE! if you don't get your ass up RIGHT NOW, I will end you myself." 

     You struggle back to consciousness, and it's still really fucking hot. "Why is it so god damn hot in here?" 

     "Dave, thank Gods..." He sounds like he was afraid you were dead, "Oh Gods, Dave. Dave, please get up. We have to go!" 

     "W-" You're stopped by a loud crash somewhere close by, and that opens your eyes real fuckin' quick. You're met with.... fire. An Oblivion's worth of fire. What the shit? 

     You move to get up, only to find that you can't. There's something across your abdomen. 

     John speaks up again, "Don't move too quickly! Part of the building crumbled, and there's a piece of the framework on you. I wanted to wait until you got up, because I can't lift it myself.... I'm sorry. At least it's not on fire?" His smile doesn't reach his eyes by a mile. He grabs the end of the wood on his side, then tells you to get a hold onto the part above your chest. Thankfully it was long enough to hit the other side of the room, so it's at an angle that doesn't crush you completely, but it's still on you to the point that you can't breathe too deeply without giving the plank a chest bump. 

     You both give it a go, but now you realize that there's a reason John couldn't get it off of you and the why it was used for the frame: it's heavy as shit. 

     "Okay," you say, "On three. One... Two... Three-" You both heave again, the board emitting a loud creak as it's pushed off of you very slowly. 

     When it's up a half foot from you, John grunts out with a red face, "Get... your ass out... from under it." 

     You're not about to question him, so you tuck and roll right onto the floor with a thud. You groan, but John grabs your wrist and hauls you up. "Come on, this place is burning down, and I doubt Equius will wait for us!" He drags you out of the room before you can scramble to your feet. 

     You're both outside of the burning building before you breathe in (smog). "Okay, would you like to give a run down as to why this place is currently burning to the ground? Or is this a really fucked up nightmare?" 

     John coughs out some smoke before answering. "Let's get to Equius first, and I'll tell you on the ride to Whiterun." 

     You give him a nod, then you both start running to where the horses were. 

     Equius sits where the driver of any cart usually does, but he looks grim. "Hey," you call out from a few feet ahead, "you okay?" 

     He doesn't answer, only keeps looking straight forwards. John glances at you to see how you react, but you only shrug. He gives up, then hops into the cart, helping you in. 

     When you're both situated, you call out to Equius to hurry the fuck out of here, and then you're off. 

     John speaks up after a moment, "I can believe you haven't said anything." 

     What the shit is with all this cryptic talk? "What are you talking about?" 

     His face is pained when he hears that. "... Lean forward a bit, and I'm sorry in advance." 

     You roll your eyes and do as instructed, feeling an odd sensation on your back. His fingers are like feathers on your spine when he speaks again, "You have an awful burn on your back, Dave." 

     So that's what why it felt weird. "Of course I haven't said anything, dude. I can't feel it." 

     "Seriously? How can't you feel it?" His face radiates pure astonishment. "Ugh, anyways," John sets something behind your back, then helps you to sit back, "don't hurt yourself too much. Hey Equius, how long until we reach Whiterun? Dave needs to be healed." 

     There's a few moments of dense silence before you can hear his deep voice speaking from the front. It's really short now, though. "A few hours, Sirs." 

     You lean in towards John and _now_ you can feel the burn rubbing uncomfortably against whatever he set behind your back. You wince for just a moment, but before John can say anything about it, you ask, "Do you know what's up with him?" 

     He squints at you for interrupting what he hadn't said, before answering. "Kinda? I'm pretty sure he liked Aradia, and I... I don't think she made it." 

     You frown. Okay, yeah, that would be god awful, so you decide then to not bring it up around him for a while. Instead, you sit up. "Hey, I had the weirdest dream. You wouldn't believe it." 

     "If it's something disgusting, I don't think I want to hear it." 

     "No, no, no. I wouldn't dare entertain you with those dreams." He makes a retching sound beside you, and you smirk again. "No, it just had this High Elf lady and- John, no. Stop making that face. I said it wasn't one of your teenage fantasies. As I was saying, there was a High Elf lady there, and we were both in a purple coloured room together. She said she was 'contacting me through my dream' or whatever, just to tell me that I was going to die if I didn't wake the fuck up. And then she said something about seeing me another time? It was weird." 

     He looks at you with such an emotionless face that would challenge your own for its money, then you can see the gears working in his head, slowly trying to understand. "So you had a dream with a woman so she could tell you to wake up?" 

     "Yeah, that's pretty much the gist of it." 

     "You're right, that is pretty weird. I guess I should thank her if we meet her, though. She's probably the only reason you got up, you heavy ass sleeper." 

     You hear Equius mutter "language", so you're assuming he's getting better. 

     "She threw a ball of yarn at my head to do that." 

     "What?" He's facing you now. 

     "Mhm. She threw it," you touch where it had hit you, but on his head, "right there, and I was out like a light." You retract you hand to lay it on your thigh. 

     John starts giggling, "Pfft! You were taken out by a ball of yarn?" 

     "Yes, haha, it's hilarious. Shut up." 

     He only laughs again, and you two spend the next half hour talking about trivial things, until you remember something. 

     "Hey, you never told me what was happening at that town." 

     John's face becomes unsettlingly sober when he replies. "Oh? Er, well..." He rubs the back of his neck with hand, looking extremely uncomfortable. 

     "Man, you don't have to tell me if it's given you some kind of mental illness." 

     "No, it's not that. Heh, I'm just still coming to terms with what happened, actually! It's really... bizarre." You raise your eyebrows in a way that you hope means for him to continue. He does. "Well, there was a dragon...?" 

     What the fuck? "John, did you take some Skooma within that amount of time I was asleep." 

     "Yes I did, and then I set the town on fire." 

     "Sounds like something you'd do." 

     He groans, "Shut up. There really was a dragon! It was ginormous and as black as your heart, Dave." 

     "Ha. Ha. I hope you're getting off on making jabs at me, or it's a waste." 

     "Whatever. But yeah, a dragon came down, said something I couldn't make out at first, and then it started raining meteorites." 

     "What the actual shit. I'm getting you tested for Skooma when we get to Whiterun." He punches your arm. "You said you didn't understand it then, but you do now?" 

     He bites his lower lip again and drops his hand to his lap, staring at it intently. "Yeah. I don't know how, since it's not exactly what we speak, but... I still get the idea of it. I don't know how, but I cou-" 

     "John, you're getting off topic." 

     "Geez, alright, alright. The dragon. He..." John looks up to your, horror filling his eyes, "He was looking for someone, Dave, and I think it was me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've ever played Skyrim for more than a day, I think you know what that last line means. Hopefully.


	8. Some More Angry Khajiit

     Okay, what? Why John? "I thought you said it spoke another language?" 

     "Yeah, it- he did. But I just... kind of understood it? Like, if you spent a year leaning Daedric, and then you went to Oblivion and started talking to a Daedra." John's face scrunches up in concentration, trying to get the analogy right. "You'd only understand some of what they're saying, and get the general idea, but you have no clue what all the little things mean.... Yeah, it was like that. Although I guess I could be completely wrong, and he actually was there for a different reason." 

     "I'm following. Do you know why he may have wanted you specifically?" 

     He throws his hands up, making the universal sound for 'Hell if I know'. "I dunno! If I did, that would be nice, so I could stop it and _not_ have a dragon after me." His voice rose with each word, so shit's about to get bad real quick. 

     "Hey, calm down a bi-" 

     "Calm down?" He stares at you as if you grew horns. "Dave, there's a god damn dragon after me! I am NOT going to be anywhere near calm!" 

     Jeez. "John, j-" 

     "I mean, how would you feel if YOU had a dragon out for your b-" 

     "John Egbert, you'd better shut the fuck up, I'm trying to help and you're making it all kinds of difficult." He bows his head in presumable shame. "Okay, thank you. Would you like a super rare Strider hug to calm down?" 

     He nods, muttering, "That'd be nice." 

     You open up your arms, desperately trying to push back any feelings of uncomfortableness because you're not a big fan of hugs. Hence the name "rare Strider hug." "Bring it in, Johnny." He scowls a moment before scooting up next to you, leaning all his weight onto your chest. You wrap your arms around him and whisper, "Listen here. Momma Strider will kill the fuck out of that dragon if it so much as says your name, got it?" 

     He sighs, "Yes, _Mother._ " 

     "Good. Then shut your face and take in all this comfort I'm exuding. Shit's crazy up in here. I'm giving you all the comfort, Egbert." 

     "All of it?" 

     "All of it. Take a nap and I'll tell you when we're at Whiterun." 

     Equius pipes up. "It will be an hour by now. Have a nice nap, Mr. Egbert." 

     "Thank you, Equius." He scooches closer, "Your chest is really bony. You are the worst pillow. It is you." 

     You smack him lightly in the head. "You shit. I'm hugging you, so you'd better watch it, and go to sleep." 

     "Alright, fine." He's quiet for the next few minutes, so you think he's gone to sleep. You stay up to make sure he doesn't fall off the wagon, and to keep Equius company. You probably should try to relieve some of that tension he's worked up about Aradia. 

      **\---**

     "Get up." You shake his shoulders. "We're here, and this will look really awkward if you don't get off of me." 

     He groans again, like he has been for the past three minutes, proving that he's mentally still a thirteen year old. You're seriously contemplating just throwing him to the ground. But that would irritate your burn worse than him sleeping on you did, so you shake him again, but more vigorously. "Come on John. Get up." 

     "Nnngh, I don' w'nna." 

     "Momma Strider's gonna kick your ass if you don't get up now. Seriously, you should be able to sleep after we see some healer person." 

     Thank the Divines, he actually gets up. He's not as big as Equius, but you still can't feel your damn legs. "Fine, 'm up." John rubs the sleep from his eyes, then blinks slowly. "Oh hey, we are here. That was quick." 

     "Yeah, a quick hour of only feeling the pain on my back." You slide down from the cart, then offer your hand to him. "Get your ass out of there." 

     He takes it, taking the two foot jump that he almost always trips on without assistance. "Oh... Uh, is your back doing any better?" 

     "Not at all." You start walking towards the gate to Whiterun with John in tow, then remember your driver. "We're gonna go see whoever the healer is. Could you take our things to Jane's?" 

     Equius nods, then hops off. "I will. Try not to get lost." 

     "Mother always told me not to make promises I can't keep." You stop in front of one of the guards to ask him about any healers. He nods, telling you that apparently the innkeeper was the town's healer. Since when had Jane been a healer? Oh well, at least you won't have to have some stranger all up on your back. You tell him thanks, and he opens the gate for you two. 

     Once you and John are situated by the blacksmith's, near the entrance of the town, you decide to actually take a look around, since you blew that idea out of the water the first (and only prior to this) time you visited. 

     This town has a grey coloured cobblestone wall around it. All the buildings look similar to those from.... god dammit, you never found out the name of that place. Wow, nice. But these structures seem far more sturdy, so in the event of more spontaneous dragons, you'll probably be safer. Hopefully. Whiterun is at least more organized. If you keep going straight along the cobblestone path, you'll walk right into The Bannered Mare (literally. It's right there at the end). Directly across from the blacksmith's is the Barracks, where the guards s- 

     Karkat. Oh fuck, Karkat's a guard here, and _now you know exactly what your first mission is._ You haven't seen him since you two finished guard training in Cyrodiil; he left for Skyrim while you stayed there. You've traded a few letters, but not often. So now you're about to catch up, but Strider style. 

     You grab John's wrist. "John Egbert. Karkat is here. Do you know what this means?" 

     "That you're going to completely disregard the burn and go annoy him?" 

     "Damn right we are." 

     "We?" 

     "Good, your ears are working. We'll visit Jane after this." 

     "Fine. Let's hurry it up, though." 

     "Dude, I can basically hear gears turning in your head with all the pranks you're going to pull on him, with the accompaniment of Jane." 

     You turn from the Barracks to face him, and he's smiling his cheeks to tomorrow. "Your ears are working too, then! Let's go." 

     You aren't one for hesitation, so you pull him to the door, release his wrist, and enter. 

     Ah, it's warm in here too. Niiiice. 

     One of the three guards sitting stands to question you, but you interrupt his unspoken words. "Hey, do you know where Karkat is deciding to curse today? He's, like," you hold your hand by your knee, "this tall, Khajiit, short tail, angry face." 

     "What business do you have with him?" 

     John speaks up before you can insert a witty reply. "He's a friend of ours that we haven't seen in a while, and we thought that we'd visit him while we're here." 

     The guard looks back to the other two, John's exquisite silver tongue apparently swayed him a little. One guard supplies a shrug, the other nods to the staircase, "He's down the stairs, pacing around some of the empty cells." You nod to him in thanks. 

     The one standing sits back down with his guard buddies, so you guess that's a 'go' for you. John pushes your shoulder to tell you to move, and since this isn't the time for half-assed banter, you descend the stairs. 

     The air further down is thicker, but not to the point where you can't breathe. Although the dust and dirt more than make up for that. You two have to take in careful, slow breaths to avoid becoming a... an object that uses air to pick up dust. That's not actually a thing, so you'll just keep that comment in the 'failed section' of your thoughts. 

     Fast footsteps bounce off the stone walls, meaning you've found your pacer. You motion for John to hush and stay low, then you both make your way towards the Khajiit. 

     Just as you were told, he's pacing around in most of his armour (except the helmet, so you can see the piercings lining his ears) up and down the hallway. When he starts walking away from you, you sneak up behind him, then with lightning speed, put your forearm on his shoulder and say in the most sultry voice you can: "Hey babe. You up for going down tonight?" 

     He hisses and attempts to claw your face, but you instinctively duck. You two went to guard training together, so dodging his attacks is second nature by now. 

     When he sees you, he groans. "What the FUCK did I do to deserve seeing _you_ again?" 

     You shrug and lean your weight on your left leg. "You must have been a good little cat this year." 

     "I would have had to go and fuck up all of Oblivion and every known realm to have you visit me." 

     "But I brought John this time." 

     "Great. I fucked up every realm TWICE, and then smashed Molag Bol's thinkpan in with a hammer." 

     John comes out from around the corner, smile plastered on his face. "Hi, Karkat!" 

     Karkat then proceeds to bang his head softly on the wall for at least twelve seconds muttering "why" over and over. 

     John's trying not to laugh his ass off, and you can do nothing to prevent the smirk creeping up on your face. This is priceless. 

     "Just thought I'd come in and say 'hi' before I have to go to..." you glance back at John. 

     Thank gods he remembers. "Solitude." 

     "Yeah, Solitude. Before I have to go there." 

     Karkat actually bothers to look at you, his "eyebrows" (they're the patches of different coloured fur above his eyes, but he always tells you to not call them eyebrows for whatever reason) raised in bemusement. "They're sending you to _Solitude?_ How high ranked are you?" 

     "Let's just say that you can address me as Sir Dave." 

     "What the fuck? How- how did _you_ , the most delusional Nord in all of Tamriel, get to that, while I'M stuck in this shitty town?!" 

     You shrug. "Pretty sure it was my face." 

     "If it was your face, then piles of cow dung are now Jarls." 

     "I can see when I'm not wanted." You falsely pout and turn to John, extending your arm. "Come on John, we're leaving." 

     He frowns, "Aw, alright. Bye, Karkat." You both take two steps before you hear Karkat groan. 

     "Ugh, no, get back here you insufferable prick. If I have to suffer with these imbeciles, I'm bringing you down with me." 

     John releases your arm and turns on his heals. "Haha, cool. So has anything happened in your totally interesting guard duties?" 

     When you turn, Karkat's holding his face in his hands. He shakes his head, then takes a seat at one of the tables you hadn't payed attention to, John and yourself following suit. "Well, there were these two men I took in around Helgen yesterday. Those guys were pretty unusual. It was a... Breton and a High Elf, I think." 

     You eye John, who's completely entranced by the prisoners. "Really? What were they like?" 

     "Oh, the Breton was pretty dark, and he didn't like the High Elf for some reason. The High Elf looked like he was having a good time being locked up in this fucking place. They were such a weird pair." 

     You decide to fuel Karkat's fuel. "What were they in for?" 

     He smirks, "I found them with three dead guys at their feet. It was damn near hilarious. They both accused one another for it, and then started bickering, so I just decided 'fuck this' and took them both. They've been arguing most of their time here. Thank any worldly powers that they're quiet now." 

     You three swap stories for enough time that your back aches, reminding you that you have to go get shit fixed. You make promises to see one another again and all that friendly shit Karkat likes, then John leads you to his sister's inn. 

* * *

     Jane drags you from the room, back towards the one Jake and Roxy were in. She did a nice job with your hair, although it looks far different than anything you've ever seen before. You're not against it, though, because it doesn't look bad. She even let you keep the goatee. It took too damn long to grow out, and you're not having it gone quite yet, if ever. The orange face paint also looks interesting, but nothing bizarre, thank the Divines. 

     She opens the door to the other room for you, proving just how civil you two have become in that amount of time she did your hair. She's not as terrifying as you thought. Jane is actually nice, but she's still protective, and doesn't tolerate everything. You respect her for that. 

     You enter the room and mother _fuck_ , Jake looks like he's been hand crafted by the Nine. 

     His hair is brushed to a peak above his right eye, sort of like a mountain of his black hair. Roxy's given him face paint, too. His is the same emerald as his eyes, but it's in the form of a skull, as if his own were glowing green beneath his skin. 

     Roxy's mouth drops, and Jake's eyebrows raise. Roxy is the one that speaks up, "Hot damn Janey, he looks almost as good as you! How'd you get him to let you cut his hair?" 

     Jane's smiling behind you, pink flushing lightly on her cheeks. "Oh, I didn't. I cut it off while he wasn't paying attention." 

     "These little things are why you're great, ya know." Roxy beams for a moment, but you see something tick in her head. "Heeeeeeeeey, could you hold him for a second?" 

     Jane only looks at her with a confused expression for a moment before doing just that. You'd fight back, but you don't want to hurt Jane, and you're also curious about what Roxy's planning. The girls seem to have good intentions. 

     "Thank you, babe." She flicks out a knife, then walks over to you. "You may not want to move, Dirky." Roxy raises it to your neck, and _now_ you're not curious any more. 

     "Roxy, don't you fucking dare." 

     Jake seems worried when he asks, "Roxy, what are you doing-?" 

     Before he actually finishes the last word, she does it. She removed your god damn goatee. You groan, "Why the fuck did you do that?" 

     "It needed to be done for a loooooong time, Dirk. This was a fated moment." Jane releases you from her grip, and you immediately grope your chin. Just as you thought, it's gone, leaving only the smooth skin behind. Why must they do this to you? 

     Jane giggles, "He looks much better like this. Thank you, Roxy." 

     Roxy winks at her, then turns to Jake. "So, what do you think?" 

     He's silent for a moment, totally lost in his own world. It seems like the words were having to walk through honest to reach his ear, because five seconds later, he's flustered and sputtering. "W-What? Oh- Yes, yes, he looks..." He pauses, mulling over his words so he doesn't say anything wrong. "... better. Yes, he looks much better." 

     You raise an eyebrow, "Was I not handsome enough before?" 

      "Well, you did have that dastardly goatee." 

     "That goatee wasn't dastardly." 

     "Well, your hair wasn't the most flattering, either." 

     Jane nudges you, "And how has Roxy done?" 

     You glare at her, because this is a test, and you know it, so you even glare at her when you answer. "She has certainly altered his appearance to unrecognizable." 

     She stares at you, grading your response. You pass with a slight nod of her head. Fucking finally. 

     "Well, now that we're all dolled up," Roxy starts, "I think that, at least Jane and I, should get back to working the inn. You two can do whatever you want, just don't make too much noise." 

     "Oh, by the Nine, Roxy. Just... go back to running the inn. We'll catch up later." She smirks and wraps her arm around Jane, gives a quick peck to her cheek, and walks her back to the front. 

     Jake coughs nervously, which you question. "Oh, it's just... this is the first time I've seen you being normal and not extremely... arrogant and cocky! It's a nice change of pace." 

     Ouch. "I'm not always like that." You roll your eyes and lay down on the bed, which feels so nice. You're used to spending your nights on a cot. 

     He decides to sit down on the chair, emitting a killing silence. The two of you spend a few uncomfortable minutes like this before he breaks it. "So, uh, Dirk." 

     "Mhm?" 

     "Did you ever decide on if you'll be spending some time with me or not? Adventuring, that is." 

     "I have not payed mind to it since last night, no. But I suppose I don't have anything else to do. So yes, I'll go with you." 

     He scoffs, "Thank you for making me sound like a last resort." He smirks, so at least he wasn't actually offended. "Shall we make plans for it tomorrow morning?" 

     "Wait, you actually plan these things?" 

     "Why of course! I don't go willy-nilly around places I don't know." 

     "See, I have a snarky comment for that, but I'll keep it to myself, just so you know that you aren't actually a last resort." 

     "Thank you, Stri-" He stops, holds up a finger, then yawns. "-der. Hah, I'm apparently tired to the point my body still hasn't realized. I'm going to tell Jane and Roxy goodnight. Would you care to join me?" 

     "Yeah, but let's not share a bed on the first night. We're not ready for that step." 

     He rolls his eyes and nods to the door before he walks out. When you exit, the girls seem to be talking vividly to two men a few years younger than you. One's a normal hight, healthy Imperial with jet black hair, and the other a thin, tall Nord with almost white hair. The second's features are unusually sharp for a Nord. His ears are even a little pointed, which is strange. His eyes are even a piercing red... 

      **Shit.**

      _Oh no oh no oh no oh no_ starts overriding you brain, and is soon the only thing you're really thinking. You whisper for Jake to stop and don't say anything. He does, albeit with a few curious looks. Maybe you can catch Roxy's eye. 

     You stare at her, hoping she'll feel it or some shit. She does, thank the gods. 

     Roxy notices your worried look, and starts putting things together. When she thinks she has it figured out, she looks between you and the Nord a few times, then mouths: _"Is this him?"_

     You nod in response. Her eyes widen for a moment, and she tenses up, then narrows her eyes and mouths: _"Then you'd better get your ass over here."_

     You've been dreading and going over this meet for about twelve years, so you'd thought you'd be ready for this. 

     You have never been oh, so wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geez, I'm so sorry for the wait. The main reason for the delay is that my beta reader is being lazy, so sorry if there's mistakes. Happy holidays for those of you who celebrate it!

**Author's Note:**

> Please tell me if I make mistakes about anything: grammar, Tamriel's history, spelling, etc. I'm not perfect.


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